


Run Boy Run

by 2honeycomb_curls2



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Kyle Broflovski, Domestic Fluff, Drug Use, Family Issues, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, No Smut, Past Domestic Violence, Pining, References to Depression, Road Trips, Running Away, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2honeycomb_curls2/pseuds/2honeycomb_curls2
Summary: Kyle's always been one to bottle up his emotions, and after years and years of letting things build up, he finally snaps, setting an impulsive road trip into action.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman (mentioned), Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	1. Misery Loves Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So break out the bottle, yes gather round me, cause misery loves company”

"Stan! Stan, wake the fuck up."

Stan felt his arm being shaken vigorously, pulling him from the deep sleep he'd been enjoying. He groaned, blinking at the figure in front of him. "Kyle? Dude, what the hell?"

Kyle is standing in front of him trembling, hugging himself tightly. His clothes don't match and his curly hair is tangled beyond belief. His usual air of dignity is gone, replaced by the worry that Stan can feel just by looking at him. "I'm sorry. I came through the window." He says, pinching his lip.

"What are you doing here?" Stan asks, still trying to wake up. He only now notices the cold leaking in from the open window.

"I wanted to say goodbye."

Stan snaps awake fully at this, sitting up to gape at his friend. "Woah, what? What the fuck is going on?"

Kyle is still trembling, which should have been Stan's first clue that something was wrong. Kyle may get emotional, but he never fucking trembles. "I have to go, Stan. I'm running away."

Stan's heart drops to his stomach. "What do you mean you're running away? You can't."

"I can't stay in South Park. I got in a fight with my mom, and I just- I can't do it anymore." He wipes at his eyes angrily. "I have to go."

"Kyle, you're not thinking about this logically." Stan gets up from bed to grab Kyle by his shoulders. "Come on, dude. The school year is almost over. Just a couple more months and you'll be at CSU." 

Kyle shakes his head frantically. "I can't. I can't wait that long. I have to leave, just for a little while. I'll come back, I just need some time out of South Park."

"You're not making any sense. Look, whatever's going on, we can work on it. You can crash here-"

"I need to leave town tonight." Kyle hisses, pulling out of Stan's grasp to sink into his desk chair, where he puts his face into his hands and begins sobbing.

Stan has never seen Kyle like this. He's only ever seen him cry a handful of times, and even then he still seemed somehow composed, as if he could turn the tears off anytime he wanted and go back to being poised and self-assured. Right now, Kyle didn't even seem like he knew what he was saying. He's only ever come close to being this distraught in front of Stan once.

"Dude, Kyle." Stan's started rubbing his back comfortingly, the way he does whenever Stan is upset. "Where are you even gonna go?" He asks gently.

Kyle breathes in deeply and unevenly. "California. I wanna go to California."

"What's in California?" Stan asks, as though he doesn't know the answer.

"Nothing." Kyle says, confirming his thoughts. "Absolutely nothing, but it's far away from here."

"And what are you gonna do? How are you gonna eat? Where are you gonna sleep, dude? Have you even thought about any of this."

Stan can see shock behind the tears swimming in Kyle's eyes. "Of course I've fucking thought about this, Stanley. I'm not a fucking idiot." He snaps. "I've been thinking about this for days."

Stan thinks this can't be true, but then thinks back to the past few days, the past few weeks, actually. Maybe even months, if he really thinks about it. Kyle has been acting weird. He's been more drawn away, more ill-tempered. Stan had even thought briefly that maybe Kyle's spirit was withering, and he was just doing an extra good job at hiding it. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd hidden something so big from Stan. 

"I'll come back in a week, maybe two." Kyle says suddenly, getting up from the chair and walking coolly towards the window, as if he hadn't been crying like a baby only minutes ago. "I'm not bringing my cell phone, but I'll figure out a way to call you."

"Kyle, this is insane." Stan says without thinking, and within a second Kyle rounds on him, their faces inches apart. 

"I am not fucking insane." Kyle says the words like they're poison in his mouth. "I'm finally doing something for me and you can't stop me."

Stan's head spins at the words. Seriously, what the living fuck is Kyle talking about? "I can't let you just run off into the night all alone."

Kyle scoffs as if it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "Well, you can't make me stay."

"Then I'm going with you." Stan says definitively, chin held high. Kyle recoils.

"The fuck you are. You're parents will worry about you."

"And your parents won't?" Stan snaps. "Jesus, Kyle. Did you even tell them you were leaving?"

Kyle looks like he might cry again, or punch Stan right in the face. "I told my mom that if she kept telling me how to live my fucking life I was booking it out of that sad little house, and she kept talking, so here I am." He says, every single word tainted with venom. 

"Fuck, Kyle." Stan sighs, running his hand over his face. "Ok, give me twenty minutes to pack a bag and get some money together."

"You're not coming with me." Kyle says, looking scandalized at the very idea. 

"Oh, yes I am." Stan says, folding his arms over his chest. "You're obviously not in your right mind right now-"

"Stop talking to me like I'm crazy."

"And I don't trust you to be on your own." Stan says, pointedly ignoring the interjection. "There's obviously no talking you down, so I'm coming with you."

"Fucking fine!" Kyle growls, tugging at his hair.

Stan feels distant anxiety as he pulls his old duffel bag out the hall closet as quietly as possible, filling it with as many clothes as he could fit along with a few toiletries. "Stay here." He told Kyle firmly, who was now pacing back and forth. He nodded distractedly, and Stan slipped downstairs to the kitchen, getting out a piece of paper and a permanent marker to scribble out a quick note.

Dear Mom and Dad,  
I can't explain why but I have to leave town with Kyle for a bit. I'll be back in a couple of weeks, at least. I'll call or write or something. Don't worry about me, I'm safe. Love, Stan.

He reads over his blocky handwriting, bouncing in place nervously. He was gonna be in so much trouble when he got back. Sighing, Stan stuck the note to the fridge with an old alphabet magnet from when he was still a small child, before racing back upstairs to make sure Kyle hadn't ditched. He was still pacing around the room, now muttering to himself quietly under his breath.

Come on. Let's go." Stan said, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. Kyle nodded tightly, hoisting himself back out of Stan's bedroom window and scaling down the wall, followed by Stan, who almost fell at least twice. They walk silently towards Kyle's car, parked across the street from the Marsh house, when Stan notices Kyle fumbling with the car keys.

"Dude, you're not driving."

"And why the hell not?" Kyle says haughtily. 

"Because you're shaking like a fucking chihuahua, dude. Give me the keys." Stan demands.

Kyle glares at him for a moment before caving in, all but chucking the car keys at Stan before climbing into the passenger's seat. Stan follows his lead, buckling himself into the driver's seat and pausing for a moment.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get me out of here." Kyle says frantically, as if he's being chased out of town.

"Ok, but, I have to make a pit stop first."

Kyle's eyes bulge in his head. "O-ok. And then we can leave right?"

"Yeah." Stan says, starting the car and beginning towards his destination.

They're both silent for a moment, and then Kyle speaks. "You think I'm going crazy, don't you?"

"No." To be honest, Stan doesn't know what he thinks. He's always known Kyle to be levelheaded, and he hardly ever made impulsive decisions. He'd been the only boy who hadn't gotten a stick and poke at Token's sleepover when they were thirteen. Kyle was always the cool voice of reason.

Of course, Stan also knows that Kyle rarely lets himself feel anything other than happiness and anger, at least in front of other people. He was always pushing his feelings away with jokes and hobbies and things he was passionate about and everyone knew he was bound to break someday, but, Stan had always assumed he would break a little less.

Kyle is crying again, head lulling back and forth slowly. "You do. You think I'm crazy. I probably am. You don't have to come with me."

"Dude, stop it.I'm not letting you run away to California on your own." Stan pulls into the driveway of the shabby two story house, gazing almost dreadfully at the peeling paint. "I'll be right back."

"This is Kenny's house." Kyle said simply, as if he were pointing it out as they drove by.

"I'll be back in a minute." Stan says to be sure he's understood, before clamoring out of the vehicle and making his way around the side of the house.

He stops at the window that he knows to be Kenny's and knocks fervently. After a minute, the curtains are pulled open and a disgruntled Kenny pulls the window open. "You better have a good reason for waking me up this late, you son of a bitch."

"Kyle's in the car, we're running away together." Stan says hurriedly, and Kenny physically takes a step back.

"You're kidnapping Kyle?"

Stan bites at his lip and groans. "No, dude. He showed up in my bedroom shaking and saying he was gonna run away to California for a couple weeks. I tried to talk him down but he just started crying. He was saying the weirdest shit, Ken. You should've seen him. He's a wreck."

"Jesus." Kenny manages to spit out. "What the hell happened? Does it... do you think it has something to do with the incident?"

Stan shudders at the word, the underlying meaning too dark for such a subtle word. "No, he said something about his mom, but. Actually, that could have something to do with it. I don't know, you know how he's been acting lately."

Kenny nods. "Yeah. Do you think he's having a nervous breakdown or something?"

"I have no idea. I have no clue what's going on. All I know is he's going to California with or without me."

"So call the fucking cops." Kenny says, seeming baffled. "Call his mom or a hospital or fucking something. You're not seriously running off to California with him."

Stan shifts his weight back and forth between his feet, huffing thoughtfully. "I think... yeah, I think I am."

"He's gonna need to face what he's running from eventually." Kenny says. He seems incredibly wise in this moment, as if he isn't the same boy who drank Stan's piss on a dare a month ago. "We both know that."

"But he doesn't. So."

Kenny looks grim. "California, here you come."


	2. Life Is a Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Life’s like a road that you travel on, when there’s one day here and the next day gone”

The sun was rising in the distance, illuminating Kyle's vibrant red curls like wildfire. He slept peacefully, head resting against the passenger side window. Stan sighs, bleary eyes looking at the highway in front of him. 

Stan had been driving for a couple of hours now, Kyle managing to fall asleep only about an hour and a half ago. He'd been whispering to himself quietly ever since they'd left South Park, biting his fingernails down to stubs, and Stan was glad he was getting some rest, although it didn't look like he was any less of a wreck in sleep. He was shifting every five minutes, face almost entirely obscured from Stan's view.

Stan is debating whether or not he should risk turning on the radio at low volume, when Kyle stirs beside him, rubbing at his eyes as he wakes up. "You weren't asleep for long." Stan says with a frown.

Kyle yawns. "I can sleep some other time."

Stan glances over at him, exhaling through his nose. "So, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean?" Kyle asks. He's avoiding Stan's eye, although Stan can't tell if it's purposeful or not. "We're going to California."

"Yeah, but what are we going to do once we get there. I mean, you said you wanted to stay gone for like, a week, but it doesn't take that long to drive to Cali, even with stops." 

Stan can feel the weight of Kyle's gaze on him, and feels uncomfortable when he looks over briefly and meets intense green eyes. "We can go to the beach."

"The beach?" Stan repeats uncertainly, and feels a nervousness grow in the pit of his stomach. Was that really Kyle's whole plan? To go to the beach?

"I have a blow up mattress in the trunk. We can put it in the backseat and take the car down to the beach. We'll sleep there, and they have showers, there, too. For rinsing off salt water. I have enough money to feed us both, I think. And if we run out, I'll think of something."

Stan is so shocked he almost forgets he's driving. The plan is well thought out. REALLY well thought out. Kyle wasn't lying when he'd said he'd been thinking about this for days. Of course, Stan hadn't necessarily thought he was, but it was a lot to take in. His best friend had been thinking of leaving his whole life behind and he hadn't even thought to tell him until he was almost gone.

"That's, uh. That's a good plan Kyle." Kyle hums in acknowledgement, staring out the window again, this time with intent, as if he's looking for something in the dash of pink and gray that they're passing at eighty miles per hour.

"Are you hungry?" Kyle asks eventually. "I have some Cheesy Poofs in my backpack." 

"I'm good." Stan says. He is a little hungry, but he's decided to largely ignore himself to focus on the road instead. If he thinks too hard about how he's thirsty or the fact that he's still in his fucking pajamas, he'll start thinking about where he is, and what he's doing, and then he'll probably go into hysterics, and Kyle certainly already has them covered in that department. Although, he does seem much calmer now, contently crunching on Cheesy Poofs. It's actually strange how calm he is, considering he's just run away from home with nothing but his super best friend and a blow up mattress. 

"So." Stan starts, trying to broach the topic with as little prying as possible. "Do you, I dunno, wanna talk about the fight with your mom?"

Kyle's demeanor shifts momentarily, filling the car with an anxious feeling, like that of a trapped animal, before reverting back to the calm they'd been experiencing. "All you need to know is that she shouldn't have any say in how I live my life. It's mine."

Stan doesn't say anything, only moves to turn on the radio, flicking through the stations for a moment before catching a glimpse of some Florence + The Machine song, turning the song up to a respectable volume and letting a thick silence fall between them.

They drive for maybe another hour before Stan realizes that the car needs gas. He mentions this to Kyle, who only nods in response. Stan pulls the car off the freeway, pulling into the nearest gas station and stopping at a pump. He digs through his duffel back, pulling out enough of the money he'd grabbed from his savings to go full tank, figuring it would save him money in the long run. He tells Kyle to stay put, heading towards the building.

The bell above the door jingles as Stan walks in, making his presence known. A rough looking man is behind the counter, giving Stan a threatening look as he approaches. Stan kicks himself mentally when he remembers that he's still wearing his stupid plaid pajama pants. "Fifty on pump three, and a pack of Menthols." Stan says, throwing the money down on the counter.

The man looks him up and down, glare still settled snugly on his features. "ID." He grunts out. Stan hands him the little card, and he squints at it like he's sure there's got to be a flaw in there somewhere, before huffing and grabbing the pack of smokes Stan had requested. He rang him up as Stan rolled on his heels nervously. The man handed Stan his change, and Stan took it hastily, glad to be out of the tense atmosphere.

He stopped at the phone booth just outside the gas station, popping two quarters into the slot and dialing a familiar number. He leaned against the wall behind him as the phone rang. Eventually, a click was heard, followed by a distinguishable voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ken." Stan says, hesitantly, as though calling him is the wrong thing to do. 

"Your mom called my house earlier." Kenny says coarsely. "She asked if I knew where you were."

Stan glances down at his feet, feeling immensely guilty for making his mother worry about him. "Did you tell her where we're headed?"

Kenny sighs on the other side of the line. "No, I didn't tell her anything. I still can't believe you're doing this. What the hell are you even gonna do once you get to California?"

"We're gonna sleep on a blow up mattress at the beach." Stan says, unsure why he's now fighting to blink back tears. "God, Kenny. This is so fucked."

"So turn back." Kenny's voice is laced with agitation, and Stan feels another stab of guilt. 

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Stan sighs, glancing at Kyle's car. He can see Kyle through the windshield from where he's standing. He's still just staring out the window, looking beautiful enough to strip away the protective layer Stan's put up and force him to face the feelings for his friend he's been dancing around. Kyle has always reminded Stan of that quote, clever as the devil but twice as pretty. Stan bites his lip, looking away from the car.

"Do you remember eighth grade?" Stan asks. "When I went into a downward spiral? I didn't leave my bed for months. Well, I guess I did, but only long enough to use the bathroom. I didn't brush my teeth or shower for two whole months, and I could barely eat anything. And... Kyle was there. Every day. I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine to be around, but he was still there. He basically lived at my house until I started getting better."

"Stan-"

"I have to be there for him." Stan says firmly. "I wasn't able to help him, with Cartman. And the incident. But I can now. And I'm going to. Ok?"

Kenny is silent for a moment, and they may be miles apart, but the words fill the space, hanging between them thickly. "You know that wasn't your fault. I didn't know, either. Nobody did."

"I know." He lies.

"Ok." Kenny says finally. "Ok. Help him. But if you're not back in two weeks from today, I'm telling everyone where you went. And, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Take good care of our boy."

Stan promises he will, and they exchange empty goodbyes before hanging up. Stan fills up the tank, peeling out of the parking lot and getting back on the highway. He glances over at Kyle, who's messing with the radio,and if it were anyone else he would've snapped at them that the driver picks the music, but Kyle is Kyle, so he says nothing as he drives hopelessly into the unknown.


	3. Would You Be So Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know you know that I like you, but that's not enough, so if you will, please fall in love"

A hop, skip, and a day's drive away from South Park and Stan and Kyle were miserably lost.

"Dude, where the fuck are we?" Kyle mutters, glaring out at the tall trees on either side of the car that whipped past as Stan drove on. "What state are we even in?"

"I have no idea." They'd moved off the highway at some point, Kyle's stupid GPS leading them down a bunch of pointless back roads before eventually ceasing to work altogether. They were now somewhere in Utah (at least, that's where Stan assumed they were) and driving around hopelessly, looking for a gas station or some other small store where they could get a map.

Stan heard Kyle sigh, almost boredly. "I wish I had taken a shower before we left. My hair is all greasy."

Stan didn't think his curls looked all that greasy, but he was probably just comparing it to his own mess of midnight hair. "Dude, you look fine. If you want, we can probably find a motel or someplace to stay the night. and you can shower. It'll actually probably do us some good not to sleep in the car."

Kyle makes a noncommittal noise, digging through his backpack for something. "I told you last night you can sleep on the blow up mattress with me. You didn't have to sleep in the passenger's seat."

Stan didn't respond, knowing it was too risky to sleep on the mattress. Kyle would have been too close, too much, and he wouldn't have been able to push away the thoughts he'd been having since junior prom, and even before then. 

Suddenly, Kyle perks up. "There's a gas station over there." He says, pointing at a building in the distance. "Stop and see about the map."

Stan obliged, pulling into the tiny little gas station and parking the car. "You want me to get you anything while I'm in there?"

"Yeah, see if they have any Tic Tacs."

Stan pulls himself out of the car, self-consciously running a hand through his hair as he enters the gas station. He goes down the candy aisle, picking up a container of tic-tacs before making his way up to the counter. The older lady at the register smiled politely as she rung up his singular item, and Stan asked if she had any maps available for purchase.

"I'm afraid not, hon. You and your friend lost?" She asked, motioning out the window where Kyle could be seen, sitting on the hood of the car, smoking a cigarette. Stan shrugged.

"I'll tell you what." The lady said sweetly. "There's a snug little town hidden away just south of this place, about twenty minutes out. You might be able to find a map for sale there. If you like, I could give you directions."

"Uh, yeah. That would be great. Thank you."

The lady draws out a map with a Sharpie and piece of notebook paper she had seemingly pulled from thin air, folding it before handing it to Stan and sending him on his way. Kyle puts out his cigarette when he sees Stan coming out, climbing into the passenger seat, even though he's not nearly as shaky as he was when Stan first insisted on driving. In fact, it seemed the further they got from South Park, the less frazzled Kyle became. Still, Stan knows Kyle isn't particularly fond of driving on the highway, and says nothing as he climbs back into the car.

"They didn't have any actual maps, but the lady in there drew me one to a little town close by where we can get one." Stan says, tossing the tic tacs at Kyle.

"Cool. Maybe we can even see about that motel you were talking about." Kyle shakes a handful of the mints into his hand, popping them all into his mouth before tossing the container back to Stan. "Take some. Your breath smells rancid."

Stan grinned at the insult. "You're not even nice to me."

"I'm nice to you all the time." Kyle scoffs. "I'm so fucking nice, I'm even offering to sleep in some dingy motel even though it's gonna cost a bunch."

"I have enough." Stan says, pulling out of the gas station and beginning the route to the town. He hadn't caught the name of it, and presumed he wouldn't considering there was no welcome sign, only the trees turning to houses turning to buildings in what Stan could only assume was the town center. It reminded him vaguely of South Park, only sunnier, and most likely more normal. Anywhere was more normal than their hometown.

They stop at a corner shop in town, buying a couple of different maps from the limited selection just to be safe, along with a toothbrush because Stan had forgotten to pack his and seriously, Stan, I wasn't kidding about your breath being rancid, I mean, did you even eat the tic tacs?

The man at the corner shop was friendly enough to point them to the only motel in town, although he kept giving them weird glances, and Stan chalks it up to them both being greasy and sleep deprived, Kyle still in the clothes he'd had on when they left South Park.

On the way to the motel Kyle demands they stop for ice cream, his treat for making Stan upset with the comment about his breath, which Kyle insists he was still being a pissbaby about even though he hadn't said a word about it since they left the store, but the lazy grin on Kyle's face is too good to deny, so he stops at a homey little ice cream parlor. Stan gets rocky road and Kyle gets mint chocolate chip. They eat their ice cream at a picnic table outside the parlor and Stan harasses Kyle about his flavor choice, claiming that mint ice cream is just frozen toothpaste. He still accepts a lick from Kyle's cone, though, and offers Kyle a taste of his, because that's what they've done since they were little kids.

By the time Kyle has eaten all his ice cream and Stan has accidentally let most of his drip onto the table, the two of them get back into the car for the final time that night, making the short five minute drive to the White Majesty Motel, which looks like a place where drug deals take place on the regular, but the fee for one night is only forty bucks and there's hot water.

As soon as they get to their room, Kyle makes a beeline for one of the twin beds, pulling clothes from his backpack, which he seemed to be able to carry an awful lot of stuff in. "I call first shower."

"Alright." Stan sits on the other bed, checking quickly for any blood stains and finding nothing. "I'll probably shower in the morning, anyway."

Kyle scrunches up his face. "No way, dude. Knowing you, you're gonna sleep past checkout time and not be able to shower, and I'm gonna have to drive all the way to California with you smelling like a rat. You'll shower after me."

Kyle seems to be in a better mood than he's been in months, so Stan doesn't see the point in arguing. "Yeah, ok."

Kyle grabs everything he needs and disappears into the bathroom. Stan turns on the cheap TV in the room, half-watching the reruns of Full House that are playing before realizing he's not even paying attention the the show, only listening to the running water in the bathroom, Kyle's soft voice drifting from the other side of the door, singing some catchy pop song.

Stan sighs, grabbing his wallet and heading out to the vending machine he'd seen on his way up to the room, just outside the motel office. He examines the contents of the machine, not finding anything appealing, and opting instead to lean against the wall beside it, taking out a cigarette from his pack and lighting it.

He tries not to think about Kyle; he's been trying for months. Of course, he thinks about Kyle all the time. He's his super best friend, after all, and one of his few friends he actually sees outside of school, aside from Kenny and Butters, and Cartman a couple of months ago, but not since the incident. So of course he thinks about Kyle. About whether or not he can probably hang out on Friday, or some funny joke he made in class, or lately, why he's been pulling away.

Stan thinks about all of that, but what he tries not to think about is Kyle as a person. If he spends too much time thinking about that, he'll get caught up in thoughts of unruly auburn hair, shining seas of emerald, pale skin with a light dusting of freckles. He'll be too busy thinking about the way his eyes sparkle in the sunshine that he won't even realize he's started thinking about Kyle's lips, and what it would be like to kiss him, to pull him close and call him his own.

He's been terrified of these thoughts since he was thirteen and freshly in the seventh grade, and had thought to tell Kyle, because he told Kyle everything, and had been told in return that he was only questioning his sexuality, and that it was fine if he was gay, but he probably didn't have feelings for Kyle, Kyle didn't know how anyone could. It may have been Kyle's own insecurity talking, but Stan still told himself that he probably didn't just so he could bury his feelings six feet under and never have to face them again.

He's been avoiding them since then, and it's been so hard lately with Kyle spending more time with him, and now they're on the road and it's probably stupid and selfish because Kyle is clearly going through something, has been for a while now, but he's just been so close that Stan can do nothing but hopelessly fall for him, keep falling until he's six feet under himself and forced to see his feelings.

He's so lost in thought, he almost doesn't see Kyle coming towards him, damp curls and sweatpants on. "You got an extra one of those?" He asks, motioning to the cigarette Stan still has clutched between his lips. Stan offers him the pack, and Kyle pulls one out with his teeth, leaning in to light it against the butt of Stan's own cigarette. He pulls away much to soon, breathing in and exhaling smoke directly into Stan's face, and it's obviously supposed to be a playful jab, but Stan just thinks it's fucking hot.

"I think we should stop in Vegas when we drive through Nevada." Kyle says, and Stan snorts.

"Dude, why? You know we're not even old enough to gamble."

"Don't you still have your fake?"

Stan shakes his head. "My mom made me get rid of it when I went to rehab that one time. And anyway, you don't have one."

Kyle shrugs, taking another drag and exhaling thoughtfully. "I still think we should go to Vegas, though. We can't go to shitty old Nevada and not go to Vegas."

"Whatever, man. It's your teenage run-away road trip, you get to pick the destinations."

Kyle giggles and punches him in the shoulder, and that's the end of that conversation. They stay out there a bit longer, smoking and talking, making jokes at each other's expense. After they've both put out their cigarettes a long while ago Kyle suggests they should head back inside.

"And don't forget you still have to take that shower." Kyle reminds, and Stan rolls his eyes playfully.

"Jeez, ok, mom."

Kyle only laughs at that, and before Stan can even realize what's happening, Kyle's leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He smiles toothily, walking back to the room and Stan is left starstruck next to the Pepsi machine.

It's not really anything new, Kyle kisses his cheek all the time, has since they were little. But that was before he had dragged him out of Colorado and ripped his heart wide open, and now, Stan felt himself wishing desperately, oh so desperately, that Kyle hadn't always been so affectionate, and wishing that it had actually meant something. 

Stan wished to be loved the way that he loved Kyle.

Instead, he settled for a hot shower and Kyle's soft snores from across the room as he lay awake with a slightly sore heart.


	4. Little League

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When we were younger, we wore our hearts out on our sleeves, why did we ever have to leave?"

Stan hated Nevada. It was hot and dry, even in Kyle's car with the air conditioning on high. He was car sick out of his mind for no reason other than the fact that he was driving mindlessly through the desert, and it didn't help that the sun was blazing in his eyes and he could hear the music bumping from Kyle's headphones. 

His stomach turned, but he pushed the feeling down and kept driving, desert surrounding him on both sides. He didn't know why, but he really, really hated Nevada. 

"Hey." Kyle said, popping one of his earbuds out. "Can we make a pit stop soon? I gotta take a piss."

Stan only nodded, continuing to focus on the dashed white lines in front of him. He heard Kyle shuffle in the seat beside him. "Stan. You ok, dude?"

"Fine." Stan hummed. Kyle didn't look like he believed him, but he didn't push the issue any further.

Stan pulled in at the next rest stop, and Kyle got out of the car to go hunt down the closest bathroom. Stan stayed behind, sitting in the car with the air conditioning running and his eyes closed, head tilted back. He could feel the sun beating down on him through the windows, and tugged vexedly at the collar of his shirt. It was too hot in the car, too hot in the state. He hated Nevada.

He heard a sharp knock come from the window, and rolled it down when he saw Kyle waving at him through the glass. "What's up, dude?"

Kyle shrugged with one shoulder. "Nothing. Just wanted to enjoy the scenery for a minute."

"Not much to enjoy." Stan squinted out at the endless desert surrounding them on all sides. It was hot and sandy and he didn't understand why anyone had chosen to live there, back when it was new land and not just something a bunch of dead white guys stole from indigenous people. 

Kyle reached into the car to poke Stan's cheek childishly. "You're such a buzzkill. Come sit on the car hood and look at the sand with me. It'll be fun."

Stan really didn't think it would be all that fun, but still, he unbuckled his seat belt and plopped himself down on the hood right next to Kyle in the suffocating heat. Kyle looked at him contentedly. "Isn't this a nice change from cold ass Colorado?"

"Personally, I like the cold." Stan countered. That wasn't necessarily true, but he definitely liked it better than the scorching Nevada heat. At least the Colorado winter, which seemed to be eternal in South Park, didn't make him want to peel his skin off.

"Well, that's because you're a loser." Kyle teased, elbowing Stan in the side, who chuckled. He gazed adoringly at Kyle, who's curls were drenched with sweat, which was disgusting, but Stan didn't think anything about Kyle was disgusting, and so only saw it as cute, especially when Kyle shot him that cute little grin. He didn't even know how much that meant to Stan. 

"Remember when we were little, and we used to sit on the hood of your dad's truck and just sit there for hours goofing off?" Kyle had been doing that a lot since they'd left South Park. They'd be doing something mundane and he'd pipe up with a small 'remember when we were little?' Kyle tended to focus more on the future, but he seemed to want to think about the past right now. Stan didn't mind even a little.

"I miss being kids." Stan said wistfully, and it was the full and honest truth. "We didn't even know anything. It'd be nice to be so carefree again."

"You're not carefree now?" Kyle asked simply, tugging on the edge of his shirt. Stan shrugged.

"You know how it is. You get older. Things get tough. I mean, you know that. You've seen me at my worst. Jesus, if you hadn't, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

"Don't sell yourself short." Kyle said, his voice soft with a hint of demand in it. "You could make it through a lot, with or without me. It's not like I'm all that much of a big part of your life anyway."

Stan literally startled at that. "Dude, of course you are. How can you say that? You're a huge part of my life. You're actually kinda like a part of me. Like, I belong to you, or something."

Kyle's face split into a goofy grin. "You're so cheesy. But it's sweet, I guess. You do belong to me. And I belong to you. It's how it's always been. Always will be. Even when you run off and get married to somebody and have ugly little mutant children you'll still belong to me."

Stan is so incredibly touched that he didn't even try to defend his future children (who will be gorgeous, fuck you very much). "Yeah. That's how I always figured it would be. But, uh, by the way. That's wicked gay, dude."

A laugh bubbled out of Kyle. "Well, you're wicked gay, dude." He leaned forward, pressing another friendly little kiss to Stan's cheek, and when he pulled away, Stan lurched forward, capturing Kyle's lips in a short and sweet kiss.

He pulled away, realizing what he'd done. Kyle was looking at him funny, and for a second Stan thought that he'd really done it this time. He'd kissed his best friend in the middle of a desert after being told explicitly years ago that they couldn't be more than friends. But instead of meeting his expectations, Kyle only giggled, before kissing Stan again, just as innocent and sweet but deeper somehow. 

"Come on." He said, after kissing Stan for a moment. "It's hot out here, and I wanna get going."

Stan had no idea what had just happened, but as he climbed back into the driver's seat of the car, he kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, he didn't hate Nevada as much as he thought he did. Just maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super duper late but I've been busy so... I'm doing my best. I know this is short but I added no angst to give you guys a fluffy little break. Btw, this chapter was inspired by the time I had to drive through Nevada for a road trip and hated every minute of it.


	5. West Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I ain't no superman, I ain't no holy ghost, I'm just the one that keeps you up and that you love the most, I'll be your strong man, I'll be your West Coast"

When they finally crossed the state line into California, Kyle demanded they go straight to the beach, no stops in between. He looked so happy that Stan couldn't be bothered to argue, so Kyle looked up the nearest beach and entered it into the GPS, bouncing in his seat the whole way there.

When they finally reached the sandy shore, Stan barely had time to park before Kyle was unbuckling his seat belt and jumping out of the car to race towards the water. Stan chased after him, making it to the water's edge just in time to watch as Kyle shucked his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans before stepping into the freezing ocean water.

"Oh my God, smell the air, Stan." Kyle giggled, literally fucking giggled, and tilted his head back to look up at the sky. It was so very un-Kyle-like. A year ago he would have talked about Stan needing sunscreen and all the pee in ocean water, but he just seemed so carefree now, red curls glowing like burning embers against the sun. 

He looked ethereal. The word had never seemed to describe Kyle until this very moment, but it did not, as he spun in small circles along the waterfront, seemingly in his own reality, completely unaware of everything outside of his moment.

He snapped his head back down to earth, a question dancing in his green eyes. "Dude, stop standing there like a loser. Come on. The water's nice."

That was all it took for Stan to be brought back down from his own little dreamland as well. He pulled off his shoes and socks and rolled up his own jeans before stepping into the water, and it quickly became apparent that Kyle had lied. The water was NOT nice. "Holy shit, this is cold, you asshole!"

Kyle laughed mischievously, tongue poking between his teeth as he moved closer to Stan. "It's not that cold, you're just a baby."

"Maybe, but you're still an asshole." Stan pinched Kyle's arm playfully. Kyle looked away for a moment, and then looked back at Stan thoughtfully.

"Do you remember when we toilet papered the art teacher's house and Cartman tried to kill me on Stark's Pond?"

It was a simple enough question, but it was the first time Kyle had even spoken Cartman's name since the incident, and he was studying him like he knew the question would rattle him, like he wanted it to. "Uh, yeah. I remember that. Sure."

Kyle bit his lip. "We were pretty weird as kids, huh?"

"Not that weird."

Kyle looked at him for another moment, unspoken emotions passing over his face. He was wearing old wrinkled clothes and his hair was messy, but in the golden rays of the sun, Stan thought he looked like art. Kyle leaned forward, kissing him sweetly, and Stan tried to commit it to memory. The feeling of warm lips against his, the smell of saltwater and sounds of crashing waves behind them. He took everything from that kiss, because he knew once it was over and they returned to South Park, there would be no more kissing.

It seemed kind of cruel to Stan. Kyle knew he liked him, and he also knew that he didn't feel the same way. But Stan realized that Kyle needed something to hold onto. He needed a crutch, just for right now, and Stan was more than happy to be that for him, not matter how cruel it seemed.

They walked the shore until the sun went down, disappearing behind the ocean after painting the sky a pretty pink. After that they walked back to Stan's car and Kyle mentioned absentmindedly that he was hungry. Stan suggested they find an In N Out, because they were supposed to be really good and the chain didn't extend to Colorado. They found one easily, eating in Kyle's car and coming to the conclusion that the rumors were true, they were probably the best burgers either boy had ever had.

They drove around aimlessly for a while after that, before finding an old lot they could park in where nobody would come disturb them. They talked for a long while after that, at least until one in the morning. Then they climbed into the backseat on top of Kyle's blow up mattress to sleep, whispering promises to each other of the fun they'd have the next day. Kyle smelled of fast food and seawater, and Stan didn't say anything when he curled around him and fell asleep.

They could talk about what it meant to cuddle another time. Maybe never. For now, Stan was content to wrap his arms around Kyle and drift into dreams about living together in an underwater kingdom, as more than just super best friends.


	6. Atlantis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can't save us, My Atlantis we fall, we've built this town on shaky ground, I can't save us"

California was shockingly free compared to the small town they'd left behind. They slept at the beach, just like Kyle had planned, pressed tightly together on the mattress in the backseat of Kyle's car. They spent most of their time there, too, but they'd escape every once in a while to drive around and see what the state had to offer.

Stan wasn't exactly sure what town they were in, or even what part of California, but he didn't think it particularly mattered all that much. He had a general idea, and anyway, he wasn't too worried about it. In fact, if anything, he was worried about Kyle.

Kyle wasn't so much a mess anymore. He seemed more put-together, and happy, even. Happier than he'd been even as a small child, being dragged around by Stan on crazy adventures that were probably fucking insane but just seemed like distant memories now. But still, even though he seemed happy, there was a sort of disturbed edge to him. Everything he did seemed distantly manic. 

Still, Stan was content to feed into it, as absolutely terrible as that sounded. He liked how Kyle smiled now that he was away from South Park. It was cheesy, but Stan thought the stars must have been jealous when he grinned crookedly up at the night sky. He wondered if the universe marveled at Kyle when he let go of himself, looking haphazardly carefree. And it was so awful and the thought made Stan sound like some poetry line, but he swore ever light shined brighter in Kyle's presence. And so, he was content to ignore the disturbed edge and focus instead on how happy they both were. 

But after a week in the sunshine state he found himself homesick and anxious as he was squeezed into the phone booth outside some office building with Kenny on the other line. "Stan, it's been more than enough time. When are you guys coming back?"

"I dunno." Stan said, biting his lip. "Soon, I hope. I don't think Kyle wants to leave any time soon, though."

"Well, fuck, Stan. I don't care if you literally have to drag him back to South Park. Your mom is like, one hundred percent sure I know something. She won't stop grilling me about it. And don't even get me started on Kyle's parents. They're both total wrecks right now. Sheila totally blames herself, thinks she's never gonna see him again. And Ike-"

"Why would she blame herself?" Stan asked. "I mean, Kyle mentioned that they got in a fight, but..."

Kenny sighed. "Jesus, dude. Is that what he told you?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that what happened?" What did Kenny mean? Kyle had clearly been upset about something, so an argument with Sheila wasn't far fetched. They barely ever got into fights, but when they did it was brutal, both of them so unbearably stubborn. Sometimes it lasted for days. 

"I mean, like, yeah, I guess maybe it was a fight. Probably. But, God, Stan. She made it sound like he just flipped. Honestly, she was just trying to do what's best for him."

"Kenny, what the fuck are you talking about?"

A moment of silence passed. "Stan. Sheila said Kyle ran away because she wanted him to go to a hospital."

"A hospital?" Stan was even more confused now. "Why? Is he hurt? He seems ok to me."

"Stan, no. Like, a psych ward."

"Oh." Stan paused, the words now fully settling in. Anxiety gnawed at his gut. "Oh. Oh my God. Jesus, why?"

"I dunno. Something about a nervous break. You know, after the incident." Stan could almost hear the face Kenny was making, the one he always made when he was talking about emotions that were just a bit too uncomfortable for his liking. Kenny was always willing to listen, but he usually didn't like what he heard. "Honestly, I don't think it's that bad of an idea. I mean, he did run away, after all."

"Ok. Wow. This is just-" Stan exhaled quickly, bouncing on his feet. "This is a lot. Um... fuck, that's just kinda... wow."

"Yeah."

"Do you think he's ok?"

"No, Stanley. I don't." Kenny said firmly, a hint of annoyance biting at his words. "His mom threatened to hospitalize him and he skipped town with you. Obviously he's not doing just fine."

"Fuck." Stan breathed, thinking everything over in his head. "What did she mean when she said nervous break? Is he gonna like, I dunno. Do you think he'd try to hurt himself?" Stan wanted to vomit at just the thought of it. 

"I don't know, I didn't really talk to his mom for long. Just-" Kenny hesitated. "Bring him home, Stan. Please. I think he needs to come home. And I think you do, too. I mean, I get that you've got this whole unrequited crush thing going for you, but you need to be back here."

"Kenny? I just... I kissed him."

"Fucking what?"

"I don't think it meant anything to him. But, uh, yeah. We kissed, like, twice. So... do you think I'm like... taking advantage of him? Oh, God. What am I doing."

"Stan." Kenny huffed. "If you were taking advantage of him you probably wouldn't feel so bad about it. Now, bring him home or I'm gonna drive over there myself and kick you in the nuts until you puke. See ya soon, dude. We miss you."

Stan heard a click when Kenny ended the call, but stayed there for a little longer, with the phone held against his ear.

Finally, Stan pulled himself out of the phone booth, climbing back into the parked car where Kyle had been waiting for him. Kyle grinned at him. "How's Kenny?"

"He's, uh... yeah, he's fine."

"Cool. Well, do you wanna grab something to eat now? I'm kinda hungry."

"Yeah, sure. We can do that."

They drove to a Subway a block down. Kyle insisted on paying, and Stan was too distracted to disagree. They ate in the car, Stan chewing halfheartedly as Kyle talked about something he wasn't really paying much attention to.

Stan kept staring at Kyle, in a fragile mixture of hurt and worry. Why hadn't Kyle told him? He could probably guess, actually. Stan probably wouldn't have let him go if it was more than just a fight with his mom. Not that Kyle had seemed like he was going to let anyone stop him, but still. 

"Stan?"

Stan looked up at Kyle, who was gazing at him with curious interest. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He lied.

Kyle didn't look like he believed him, but he smiled genuinely anyway. "Kay. Wanna head back to the beach?"

"Sure, if you want."

Kyle grinned again. He looked at Stan for another moment, before leaning in and kissing him quickly and tenderly. Stan didn't even realize anything was off on his end until Kyle pulled away, brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Stan asked dumbly.

"Well, I just mean that-"

"Why are you kissing me? Like, not just right now, but like, since we've left South Park. I dunno, just.. is there a reason?"

Kyle clicked his tongue. "Because I want to. Why? Do you not want me to kiss you?"

"I guess I do, I just don't get why you want to all of a sudden. And I mean, it seems a little mean?"

"Mean?" Kyle repeats. "You think me kissing you is mean?"

Stan huffs. "I didn't mean it like that. But what I'm trying to say is I've liked you since like, middle school, dude. And you know that, and I know you don't feel the same way, so the fact that you're kissing me is just kinda weird."

"Is that what this is about?" Kyle looked defensive at that point, wrapping his arms around himself. "Because I nev-"

"Why didn't you tell your mom was gonna put you in a psych ward, Kyle?"

Kyle's face dropped. He moved away from Stan as if he'd just scorned him, backing himself up against the car door. "Because it's none of your god damn business."

"Yes it is, dude! Like, it's not a bad thing, I get it. But like, you could've told me before I ran away with you."

"I didn't fucking ask you to run away with me! I just came to say goodbye!"

Stan sighed. "Kyle... I think it's time for us to go back to South Park."

"No." Kyle's eyes snapped onto his. "No, I don't wanna go back yet."

"Kyle-"

"I'm not letting her commit me! I'm not fucking crazy!"

"Oh, so you have to be crazy to get help? Is that it?"

"Jesus, Stan! No! But that'[s what she thinks, my mom! She thinks I'm fucking insane because I trashed my room once or twice and cried a couple of times! But I'm not crazy! Ok! I'm fucking fine!"

"Kyle, you're clearly not fine! We're in fucking California!"

There's a moment of tense silence. And then Kyle inhaled sharply, letting his head fall back against the window, eyes shut, and Stan was beginning to think the conversation was over when Kyle spoke again. "Ok. Ok, I'm not fine. I'm really not, Stan... and... I wanna talk about it."

"Ok." Stan breathes. "Let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a hot minute !! I've been very very swamped between trying to navigate school and work and it's just wack. Please accept some angst as consolation.


	7. Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sensitive material that could be triggering, please double check the tags and be mindful <3 <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Open hand or closed fist would be fine, blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine"

Kyle had never had it easy when it came to his sexuality. Stan knew that. It wasn't that he lived in a homophobic household, but the fact of the matter was that it was incredibly confusing for him. Stan knew that. He'd been around for the whole process of Kyle questioning his identity, clinging selfishly to the hope that once he figured it out, he'd realize Stan was the one for him. 

So, Stan never understood why, in freshman year of high school, Kyle started dating Cartman. Of all people, fucking Cartman. He didn't get it, not even a little bit. The asshole had never been anything but a bigoted jerk to Kyle, and their dynamic didn't seem to change much now that they were openly together. Cartman still called Kyle a filthy Jew, and Kyle still shot back that he was a racist fatass, but they now did it hand in hand. 

To everyone's surprise, the relationship didn't come to a close after a month of their incessant fighting. In fact, over the years as they continued to stay together, the fighting came to a stop. It didn't seem that there was nothing to fight about. There certainly were. Cartman's shower of insults and slurs never stopped, but Kyle simply seemed to accept them, quietly taking it. 

Stan had asked him once, in junior year, why he was dating fucking Cartman. Kyle had simply shrugged, and said that he was happy. He hadn't seemed happy in a long time, but Stan swallowed his words and went back to the homework he had been doing. That was a month before the incident.

Of course, it wasn't exactly an incident. It was multiple incidents that happened over the span of their relationship, like when Kyle came to school in a turtleneck on the hottest day of the year, or when word got around school that the two of them had gotten into a screaming match so loud the cops had shown up at Cartman's house, or even things that weren't incidents, but still should have tipped Stan off, like the way Kyle always got a little quieter when Cartman was around.

But still, junior prom was what Stan and Kenny called the incident. 

They had all agreed to go as a group, although it was less of a group with everyone coupled off but Stan, and they were just trying not to make him feel left out. Even Butters and Kenny had gone together. But still, they called it a group, and carpooled to the school together in Stan's mom's minivan. 

Kyle looked really good that night, Stan remembered. He was wearing a plain black suit, and his hair was neat, rather unusual for his mess of curls. He'd looked dazzling as he leaned over to tell Butters something Stan couldn't hear, probably some snide comment about somebody in their class he didn't like, based off the way he held himself. 

The entirety of the actual prom was pretty boring. Most school dances were, at least in Stan's opinion. He was a cynical person, although he didn't try to be, but he still managed to have a good time. At some point he had lost track of all his friends. Figuring Kenny might be in the bathroom smoking, he slipped out of the school's crowded gym and into the hallway, feeling instantly less overheated.

He had grabbed his phone to text Kenny and see where he was, and glanced up to see Kyle and Cartman halfway down the hallway. They looked like they were in the middle of an argument, but Stan was too far away to hear anything.

Cartman was holding Kyle by the wrist, squeezing hard enough to look like it hurt, but Kyle seemed to not even notice that. He was saying something to Cartman, who looked pissed off, and started saying something back. 

Stan was just about to go back into the gym and leave them alone to work out whatever that was, when Kyle said something that made Cartman visibly enraged, and before Stan could even comprehend what was happening, Cartman had slapped him, the sound of open hand coming down on Kyle's cheek loud enough for Stan to hear as if it were happening right next to him.

Before he could think, he was rushing towards them, taking wide steps as he began shouting "Hey! Hey, what the fuck was that! What the fuck, Cartman!"

"Stan, stop." Kyle said. He was holding his cheek, and looking worriedly at Stan.

"Dude! Cartman, what the fuck is wrong with you! You can't- you can't just hit him, you sick piece of shit!"

"Relax, hippie! Don't tell me what I can and can't do!"

"Listen here, fuckass-"

"Stan!" Kyle shouted, nudging him away from Cartman by the shoulders. He hadn't realized how close he'd even gotten to the sicko, pure rage pumping through him. "Stan, if you keep shouting, people are gonna hear."

"So?"

"So fucking stop it! It's fine!"

"It's not fine!" Stan shouted, and Kyle was right, because now a few people had filed out of the gym to see what all the yelling was about, but Stan didn't care. He set his eyes on Cartman, who looked rather bored. "I'll fucking kill you, you sick bastard! You can't just do that!"

"Stanley, I said stop!" Kyle shouted, and he began pushing Stan, away from Cartman and past the small crowd of confused teens that had gathered, kept pushing until they were both outside the school in the cool night air.

"What the fuck! What the fuck, Kyle! He fucking hit you!"

"Yeah, I know!" Kyle spat out. He was glaring at Stan, arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes screaming a thousand different emotions. "I told you, it's fine!"

Stan almost screams. "It's not fine! He can't just do that!"

"But he does- did! Shit." Kyle tugged anxiously at the collar of his white shirt, looking anywhere but at Stan. "Why does it even fucking matter? I'm fine!"

"Kyle." Stan breathes, staring at the bright red hand mark on his face, feeling angry all over again at the thought of how it was most likely going to bruise. "Jesus. Does he... he hurts you? Like... a lot?"

Kyle rolls his eyes, which are quickly filling with unshed tears. "It's whatever. I already told you, I'm fine. I honestly have no idea what you're getting so worked up over, I mean... it's... he just loves me."

Stan actually laughs at that, bitterly. "Kyle. He does not fucking love you."

Kyle had nodded, then. Slowly and surely, as if he was really registering what Stan was saying. And then, when Stan could finally see Kyle's face again, there were tears tracing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry." He said.

"Jesus. Don't be sorry." Stan had pulled him into a hug then, and let him sob against his chest, whispering wordless reassurances into his curls as he tried not to cry himself.

Kyle had broken up with Cartman a week after junior prom. He'd done it at his house, while both his parents were home, and Stan felt sick over the fact that he had to take those measures. But he knew things would get better after that. He was sure of it.

Only, things didn't get better. Kyle began withdrawing himself, denying Stan's invitations to hang out, and he and Kenny worried but there was nothing they could really do about it. 

Stan had even tried showing up at Kyle's house unexpectedly, but his mother informed him Kyle wasn't home, even though Stan had seen his bedroom light on. Stan had seen less and less of Kyle, and had even begun to worry that he would never have an actual serious conversation with him again, only be able to survive off the scraps of small talk Kyle left him with. 

Until, of course, Kyle had shown up in his room and swept him away to California.

Until, of course, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I feel like this is so bad. It's just some world building bullshit, but I feel like it was important before I publish the next chapter. Sorry, I know I've been shit lately, I pinky promise I've been trying to get back on a normal updating schedule. I'll do better.


	8. Blonde Hair, Black Lungs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When you told me that you missed me, well I couldn't close my eyes, cause I realized what it felt like to die"

"I talked to him again."

It's the last thing Stan expected to hear when Kyle finally spoke again. His voice is soft, as if he expects Stan to be offended by the words. For a fleeting moment Stan thinks that maybe he should be. "Who?" He asked, even though he already knew.

"Cartman." Kyle said, looking down at his lap. He looked ashamed. "I just... I talked to him."

"When?"

Kyle exhaled. "The night that we left. Um, actually, no. You probably wanna know when I started talking to him again, right? So that's... about a month ago."

"A month? Jesus, Kyle! Don't tell me you're back together with him." Stan was appalled, imagining Kyle sneaking around for a whole month to talk to Cartman. Cartman, who had ripped him apart like it was no big deal. 

"I'm not." Kyle sniffed. His voice was thick, as if he was trying not to cry. "It's not even really us talking. It's more like... him talking at me. And I listen because I miss him. Did you know that, Stan? That I miss him sometimes? Isn't that pathetic?"

"No. Hey, dude, it's not." Stan leaned forward instinctively but made no effort to try an touch Kyle. He seemed too fragile right now. "It's not pathetic. It's probably normal-"

"God, I'm so sick of people telling me the things I go through are normal." Kyle all but sneered. "Nobody tells you beforehand about a lot of the stuff that happens, but after it happens it's supposed to be normal?"

"So you're saying that if somebody had told you that you'd miss Cartman after all the shit he'd put you through, you wouldn't have dated him?"

"No. Obviously. I never should've dated him in the first place." Kyle had started to cry then, no sobbing or anything too dramatic, just his face pinching up and a few stray tears slipping down his cheeks. "God, I'm such and idiot. Why am I crying? I never cry."

"It's ok to cry." Stan said. He didn't know why Kyle had picked then, out of all the times he'd cried on this trip, to decide it was stupid. 

"It's not ok. You know? It's just not. And I just..." He'd sighed then, looked out the window before continuing to speak. "It was the nightmares. I think that's what really scared my mom. I have nightmares. I haven't' had any in a while. But I could tell they scared her. I wake up screaming and they're just... so awful. And you know, I passed out the other week because I'd been staying up because I didn't wanna have another fucking nightmare. I'm sick and tired of being scared of what's in my own mind."

Stan hesitated before asking his next question, not sure whether he was intruding or not. "What are the nightmares about?"

Kyle had shrugged. "Him. Sometimes it's things he's done to me. Sometimes it's things I think he would do, or sometimes he's chasing me. The worst are the ones where it's somebody else, somebody who wouldn't hurt me. But he's inside their heads and he's making them. Making you. And then sometimes I can't even remember. I just wake up screaming and all I remember is him."

"You could've told me. About the nightmares." Stan said. "I could've-"

"You couldn't have done a damn thing." Kyle said, but his voice wasn't spiteful. He seemed to have made peace with the idea. "Because he fucked me up. It's funny because he's been fucking me up since we were eight. And hitting me since we were eight, too. But it took him convincing me I loved him to really fuck me up."

Kyle had looked at Stan then, eyes watery and full of so much emotion, so much depth, so much uncharted territory that Stan almost jumped back. Had his eyes always been that green? They were like pools of atomic material. Stan wondered if, if he could somehow step into the color, he would be able to understand Kyle. He could hear him better. 

"That must be it, I've decided." Kyle said, speaking animatedly now, waving his arms around. He was no longer crying, only sniffling intermittently. "I never actually loved him. He just convinced me I did, or maybe I convinced myself but... no, it was him. I'd never even considered him before he asked me out. And I'd said yes because I didn't know what I wanted, and anyway, I didn't want him to resort to more drastic measures to get a date with me. You know he would. So then... but I didn't love him. I love you."

The confession had been tacked onto the end of the monologue so haphazardly that Stan almost missed it. He balked, his head trying to wrap itself around the whole thing, still trying to grasp that he was talking to Cartman recently. "What? Kyle, what are you talking about? What do you mean you love me?" 

"I mean I love you. I want to hug you and kiss you and hold your stupid idiot hand, and then after we get out of South Park I wanna marry you and move in with you and raise your children."

"W- raise my children?"

"Well." Kyle said, seemingly mulling it over. "I wouldn't raise them myself, obviously. We both would. And maybe not children, multiple. Just one. One baby. A daughter. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Ok." Stan had said dumbly, not really sure what else to say. And then, in a blinding moment of realization, he'd asked, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. What did you and Cartman talk about the night we left."

Kyle bristled. "Oh. That. Well, I don't know if you really need to hear it."

"I do."

Kyle nodded. "Ok. Then I'll tell you, I guess. We- we met at Stark's Pond that night. Nobody else was there. Nobody could be. We couldn't just talk, I mean, everyone in town knows what happened. What he did. My mom would have lost her mind."

Kyle cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, so... we were at Stark's Pond. And he was talking. About how he wanted me to forgive him. He was sorry. He'd been saying that that whole month we'd been talking. It was all he talked about, really, about how sorry he was that he'd messed up. I think he wanted me back? But I don't think he really loved me either. I think he just wanted to control me. Anyways. He tried to kiss me. And I told him to fuck off. And then he grabbed my wrist. The same wrist that he'd broken when we were still dating."

Stan remembered Kyle's broken wrist. He'd helped him carry his stuff every day at school because he couldn't. "Cartman did that? I thought you slammed it in a car door."

Kyle smiled bitterly, and Stan knew it was stupid to press the issue to begin with. 

"Anyway, he grabbed my wrist. And he told me that... that I couldn't do better than him. That nobody else wanted me. That I'd always belong to him. And it was so... it was just like I couldn't take it. So I ran away as fast as I could. And I went home, but my mom was in the living room, and I was screaming and crying and I could tell I'd really rattled her. She didn't know what to do so she told me I needed help. I hadn't been right since my relationship and I needed to go to a hospital."

"Kyle-"

"And I told her she couldn't tell me what to do. And she said I was acting like a lunatic. And I couldn't stand to be there... in that house, in that town. That stupid town that just, it belongs to him. He's everywhere. So I left. And here we are."

They sat in suffocating silence for a minute. Stan didn't know what to say, and Kyle didn't appear to have anything else to say himself. He was picking at a thread in his shirt. It wasn't his, actually, now that Stan was looking at it. Kyle was wearing Stan's shirt, the Park County High School one he'd gotten at freshman orientation all those years ago. 

Kyle was the one to break the silence. "That felt good. To talk. Sorry I'm so fucked in the head. I don't know. But, do you..."

"Do I what?"

Kyle gulped. "Do you love me back? Like, cuz I told you I love you and just... do you feel the same?"

Stan sighed. "Kyle. Come on, dude. You know I do."

"No I don't." Kyle said. "Or, I didn't. The first time you told me you liked me. I didn't believe you. I couldn't. I thought you were just, you know, like gay. And you didn't know what love was. I thought you had just attached yourself to me. And then it was a matter of me being gay and I didn't want to be and then I guess I never accepted it." He breathed unsteadily. "But I'll make a deal with you. If you tell me right now that you love me, I'll believe you. I think I'll know."

Stan didn't miss a beat. "I love you so much, Kyle. I've loved you since I was born."

"That's dumb." Kyle said, though he was smiling, only slightly, the emotions from only moments before still hanging thickly in the air. "I wasn't even alive when you were born. Not for six more months. You didn't even know me."

"No, but I loved you. I was just waiting to meet you."

"Can I kiss you again, or are you gonna tell me it's mean?"

Stan snorted. "Get over here dude."

Kyle did, leaning over to kiss Stan deeply. Stan sighed as soon as their lips met, like he was a dying man who'd just found water. Kyle's lips tasted salty, probably because of the tears he'd shed not too long ago. Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle, pulling him into his lap, but it wasn't sexual, just comforting. Kyle needed comfort. They both did.

When they finally pulled away Kyle was panting slightly. He dropped his head onto Stan's shoulder and held him to his body tighter. "I should've kicked Cartman's ass."

Stan giggled. "Yeah, you should've. I would've watched. You probably would have decimated him."

"Yeah." Kyle breathed, playing with Stan's dark hair. "Do you want to do it all? Hug and kiss and get married?"

"I do. And I think I'd like to have a daughter, too."

"What would we name her?"

Stan thought for a minute, but only one word slightly resembling a name could be made out in the fuzz in his brain. "Darling."

Kyle pulled back a little to look at him, judgement clouding his features. "Darling? What kind of name is that? That's stupid."

"It's sweet." Stan argued. "If her name was Darling, everyone who addressed her would be talking to her like she's dear to them. I think that would be so sweet, if everyone who met her called her their darling."

Kyle settled against him once again. "It is kind of sweet. Darling Broflovski-Marsh. It does have a certain ring to it. Although, I hope you're not serious, because that's just an awful thing to do to a child."

"Well," Stan said, nuzzling his face into Kyle's hair. "First thing's first. We need to go back to South Park."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. I'd apologize for taking so long to update, but I assume you guys know the drill by now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, this will be getting wrapped up pretty soon <3<3<3


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